PickledCherub

So, as some of you probably know already, I'm buying a house. A nice house, a big, grown-up house, with four bedrooms and wood floors and the like. It's the kind of house where I won't need to do any major work on it for a long time, I hope. But I will need to buy a refrigerator. Today I got all excited and went out to look at paint samples. Paint is important. I also bought a really pretty rug that was really cheap. But you know that the goddam cats are going to be all clawing at it, because that's what cats do.

I pretty tired today. I couldn't say exactly why, but I'm tired. It's so nice out, all sunny and warm.

The next house step is the inspection. What I'll do is go to the house and this guy will check it out from top to bottom, and he'll tell me what is wrong with it, if it has termites, if it'll need a new heater, things like that. I'm kind of terrified, but happy. I won't miss living on Hawthorne, though, because Hawthorne is filled with crazies and people from Beaverton.

I want to plant things like rosemary and lavender and herbs in the front. I want it to be nice.

Chris asked me the other night if this process made me think about my Dad, who died almost six years ago. Sort of, and for a few reasons. First of all, I wouldn't be able to buy a house if he hadn't died. (A lot of things, one thinks, would be different if he hadn't died.) Then I started to think about dad, and realized that in a lot of ways, I've forgotten about him. The daily memories I used to have are gone, as is the sad, empty feeling. But then, last night, I started to think about how I've forgotten about dad, and then I started to cry a bit.

Life is a real mixed bag of nuts. What's the trade-off? I'd rather have dad around, but no one ever asks. "If you can't get what you want, do you have to take what you get?" Yeah, you do. Mostly.